
In honor of this most brief of months, a poem, illustrated.
February
The clouds, a blanket overhead,
Won’t let the sun get out of bed,
And crows among the seagulls fly
Like salt and pepper in the sky.
Artist and visual communicator
In honor of this most brief of months, a poem, illustrated.
The clouds, a blanket overhead,
Won’t let the sun get out of bed,
And crows among the seagulls fly
Like salt and pepper in the sky.
Sometimes I like to talk out loud
when nobody is there.
My brother calls it craziness,
my mother calls it prayer,
my father calls it poetry,
and all of these are fair;
but I just like to watch the shapes
my words make in the air.